Tavern in Askavi
He looked up from his drink and eyed all three Warlords for a few moments, taking note of their ranks before turning down to muddle into his own drink, his mind going back home thinking of how easily things could spiral out of control. One moment he was comfortably going through his day and within hours he was miles away, his Queen dead, and what was once his home in ruins. It made him wonder on how fragile their lives were. How easily a set of events once unleashed could spiral out of control and lead down a hole they would never get out of. It scared him. A part of him felt like he'd been in a situation like this before, the same sort of hole that happened too fast and spiralled too out control. Except he didn't make it out completely hole, did he?
A massive part of his life was gone. An entire history seemingly disappearing into nothing. And the same thing was happening again. Was he going to lose more than his memory this time? The thought amused him a little. There was clearly a pattern happening, some twisted stroke of fate or ill-luck took note of him and decided it wanted to fuck with him a little. Darkness fend, but wasn't this just great. Funny how he never even wanted any of this; he just wanted to go by unnoticed, keep his home civil and protected. At least he was alive, but at what cost? Was he right to flee instead of staying back and fighting to the bitter end? It was useless to second guess himself now that he was already so far away, the best he could do was let fate take him where it willed and hope that it somehow dind't end up with him dead.
But was that so bad? He wondered at it for a bit. A final end to everything: his memories, his home, and finally his life. It would fit perfectly.
Lucivar looked up when he heard one of the three Warlords speak, his eyes narrowing as he watched them fan out. Despite himself, he could feel the adrenaline beginning to course through him, his heart beating faster and his eyes catching the subtle movements around the room. He kept himself physically calm however as he turned back to his drink, noticing that Andressa's hand was on his own. He looked up at her and saw she had a warning look on her face, almost pleading with her eyes not to take the bait.
He turned back to his drink. "You want a fight, you've got one," he said as he turned the tankard in his hand distractedly, "I must warn you however. Yield or no, none if you will make it out alive."
Gen hesitated as the man looked up with narrowed eyes. A Warlord Prince was a dangerous foe even if the Warlord facing him wore the Green and had two other Warlord Princes at his back. As the woman laid a hand on the strange warrior's hand Gen took a mental step back and shot his brothers looks to rein in their own tempers. "We don't have the fight left." The de facto leader admitted. "Apologies Lady. These are troubled times and seeing a stranger appear with a battered woman...." He let his words trail off, the hint clear that the three brothers had suspected the worse.
The old grizzled bartender snorted at that. Going back to wiping out a tankard. "An' I'm not havin' any more fighting in here. Especially if you want to kill those three and bring Healer Ashkevron's wrath on your head." The name 'Ashkevron' was filled with a respect that was rare for such a warrior like the owner had been to give. "Bar's enough of a mess. Take it outside, or go deliver them and yourself to her doorstep and save the lass the trouble of hunting you down." The man guaffed in amusement as the two Warlord Princes snarled in irritation at their elder. Gen seemed more amused than anything else. But the three had stepped away from the killing field.
Lucivar frowned at the name and looked up at the barkeep, his head tilting slightly to the side. "I would have expected a little more spine from Eyrian Warlords," he said with a shrug. "Alas. I think we can do with a bit of healing anyway. This Ashkaveron, where are they?"
"Ashkevron." Gen corrected with a huff, "And we got spine." He didn't elaborate that if you lived near Ashkevron's eyrie then your spine learned when to bend to a Healer's will. "Her eyrie, I suspect. Our home." There was a defiant look in Gen's eye as he challenged Lucivar to comment on that. "We're her escort." Escort, bodyguards, servants. Complicated put it simply. "We could lead you there." The Green Warlord ignored his brothers' protests as they glared at the Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince.
He thought about it for a moment, letting these men take him to this Ashkevron. But what if it was a trap? What if this was going to lead further down the hole and into something worse. Was he just going to let it happen? Or should he fight against it, try to find his own way? It seemed too convenient, too perfect and he learned early on things like that were only trouble. More, these three could easily be leading him into a trap. Agents of Dorothea that would try to take him captive and get a pretty reward for it.
The thought alone was enough to set his already fried nerves over the edge.
Then, he suddenly felt a squeeze on his hand and looked up at Andressa. “Don’t,” she said in a low tone with pleading eyes. “Don’t. We can’t afford anymore enemies, Lucivar. Not now.”
“What if they are enemies?”
“Wouldn’t they have attacked outright if they were?”
He eyed the three Warlords again. “I don’t trust them.”
“You’re in shock. I can’t trust them either, but we can’t just sit around doing nothing. And a healer will do us both good. Besides, they don’t know your jewel. You can play it weak and if they happen to pull a trap, you can kill them.”
Lucivar considered it for a few long moments then nodded. “Fine,” he said as he used the Craft to hide his powers from any sort of probes. Then he stood and looked at the barkeep and tossed him a coin. "Lead on, then.”